Chapter 5 #2
Fine. He’d play it safe and wait until they moved. Though Ricardo did intend to finish this job before the wine was poured or the first course was served, he had as long as dinner took. August might not be thrilled about it, but that was the deal.
Another server joined them. The conversation became animated.
Now one of them was right beside Bremmer; there was no avoiding hitting her if the bullet exited the body.
Ricardo was using a low caliber—just a .
223, which was far more likely to bounce around inside Bremmer’s body and destroy all his internal organs before lodging in a muscle or bone than go all the way through.
Still, too risky. He didn’t even like August being that close, and the odds of August being hit were vanishingly low.
There was an impatient note to August’s voice as the conversations continued—both his, and the servers and bus boy.
“It’s always important to strike while the iron is hot,” he said with a hint of irritation only his husband would notice. “Don’t let opportunities slip away, am I right?”
“There’s people in the way,” Ricardo murmured. “As soon as they move…”
Bremmer was saying something Ricardo didn’t care enough to make out. August went to pour himself a second glass of wine, but he fumbled the bottle and sent it flying.
“Oh! Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!” He flew up out of his chair, probably to help with the mess. The servers and bus boy immediately shifted gears as well and moved toward August.
Fucking finally. Ricardo had a clear shot now, as long as Bremmer stopped moving around and flailing.
He seemed to be trying to flag down more employees or something.
The frantic way he was acting would’ve been more appropriate had someone been having a heart attack and needed an ambulance, not like a bottle of Chateau d’Yquem Bordeaux had hit the floor.
“Rich people,” he muttered, more to himself than August. August wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway, since he was falling all over himself to apologize for the mess and warning the employees to be careful of the broken glass.
“I’m so sorry!” he was saying. “Oh, dear. I’ll pay for it, and—be careful with that! Don’t cut yourself! My goodness, I’m sorry!”
While August stopped just shy of rending his garments—as if—in apology, Bremmer settled back into his chair. He picked up his wineglass for a casual sip while the theatrics continued.
Ricardo inhaled deeply. Let it out. Inhaled again. Curled his finger around the trigger. Exhaled slowly. Closed the eye that wasn’t peering down the scope. Inhaled again. Tightened his trigger finger. Exhaled as he—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The pounding on the condo door had Ricardo flying to his feet and cursing. Only years of training in combat zones kept him from reflexively squeezing the trigger. Thank God, because he could’ve shot anyone from Bremmer to August to some random person on the street thirty floors below
“Fucking hell.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Fire department!” came the booming voice on the other side. “Open up! Fire department!”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
That wasn’t good. The fire department could and would knock the door down if it was a genuine emergency.
Ricardo tucked the gun between the wall and a bookcase, and jogged to the door. The peephole confirmed two firefighters outside in full gear, masks and all.
He opened the door.
“Sir, we’ve got a serious gas leak in the building.” One of them reached for his elbow and gestured down the hall. “We need you to evacuate.”
“Evacuate? But I—”
“Sir, we need you to evacuate.” The hand on his elbow tugged him across the threshold. “There’s a significant risk of ignition. Please follow these people down the stairs.”
Fucking hell. There was nothing Ricardo could do but follow.
As Ricardo obediently stepped out, the man asked, “Is there anyone else in the unit?”
Ricardo shook his head. “No. It’s just me.”
The firefighter nodded sharply. “Unit’s all clear,” he shouted to one of the others, and they continued down the hall while Ricardo followed the others down the stairs.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This was not good. But he couldn’t go back. There were firefighters blocking the hall, and they’d forcibly remove him if they had to.
“Ricardo?” August said in his ear.
Ricardo plugged his other ear so he could hear better over the noise of people moving down the stairwell. “What’s going on?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. Why aren’t you at your perch?”
“Why are you talking to me when you’re supposed to be—”
“I went to the men’s room to clean myself up. What’s going on?”
Ricardo sighed. “Building evacuation. A gas leak, I guess.”
“That sounds… convenient.”
“It does. I don’t know how long they’ll keep us outside. Just… stall him as long as you can.”
“Ugghh. Ricardo. This guy is insufferable.”
“And you’re good at entertaining people like that.” Ricardo cleared a flight of stairs and started down the next one. “I’ll let you know when I get back in. Until then… just do what you do best.”
“If I do that,” August said dryly, “I’ll get arrested for indecent exposure.”
“Fine. Do what Augustus Mason does best—be a rich, charming asshole.”
“You’re a dick.”
The line went dead.
Ricardo chuckled to himself, but he was unnerved. A gas leak and an emergency evacuation? That was way too convenient to just be bad luck.
And if someone knew Ricardo was here, or they knew enough to implement something like this, then there was far too great a chance they also knew where August was. And why.
A chill went straight to Ricardo’s bones.
He stopped on the next landing and quickly wrote out a text.
Get out of there. Regroup at the hotel.
“Sir, you need to keep moving,” a firefighter barked at Ricardo. “Move along, please.”
Ricardo moved along.
And all the way to the ground floor, he hoped like hell August had listened.